


Fever

by sky_blue_hightops



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Fainting, Father-Son Relationship, Fever, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic, Whump, if my xbox can rrod then u bet i can make connor have a fever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 10:41:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,702
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15241611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sky_blue_hightops/pseuds/sky_blue_hightops
Summary: Connor sat up, then faltered as his optical components decalibrated for a few seconds. The room tilted, and he flopped back down. He debated calling for Hank, then decided against it. Calling for help would undoubtedly put unneeded stress on the older man. He was fine, surely. Just a brief malfunction.





	Fever

**Author's Note:**

> same thing as summer days, connor can feel temperatures

Connor woke from rest mode one morning to several error messages, timestaped from various points during the night. The little red boxes flashed in the edges of his vision, buzzing slightly.

He scanned them briefly, distracted by a strange trembling feeling in his chest. As a detective model, he was outfitted with a system capable of detecting temperature, much like a child model. Supposedly, it would aid in analyzing evidence or recently deceased bodies. He, personally, prefered to analyze evidence by ingestion (even if it did bother Lieutenant Anderson quite a bit). Before he could continue that line of thought, however, the trembling spread to his arms. If he could put a word to it, he would call it cold.

Connor frowned. His thermoregulatory biocomponents were still fully operational. He should be able to maintain his standard temperature of 98.6 degrees Fahrenheit, but a quick diagnostic scan placed his internal thirium temperature at around 100.1 degrees.

He sat up, then faltered as his optical components decalibrated for a few seconds. The room tilted, and he flopped back down. He debated calling for Hank, then decided against it. Calling for help would undoubtedly put unneeded stress on the older man. He was fine, surely. Just a brief malfunction.

He managed to sit up again, ignoring the wavering of his vision and pulling himself to his feet - a bad idea, he realized, when he staggered and fell on his knees.

He stayed down, eyes drifting shut. Alright. He could do this. He just needed to reach his dresser, put on an appropriate outfit, and…make it the rest of the day.

Suddenly the day seemed very big and his ability to stand upright very small. He took a steadying breath, then pushed up off the ground.

He stumbled into the corner of his dresser, the sharp edge impacting his side. He collapsed against it, vision fully flickering out for a brief, terrifying second. He clung to the piece of furniture like a life preserver, red error messages proclaiming faulty vestibular biocomponents.

Another steadying, unnecessary breath. He regained what sense of balance he could, cleared away the error messages, and began getting ready for the day.

***

Hank knew something was up when Connor got in his car wearing a sweater. In June.

Hank narrowed his eyes. If he didn’t know better, he’d say Connor looked a little pale. “You okay, kid?”

Connor met his eyes for a second before looking straight ahead. “Affirmative, Lieutenant. I’m fully operational.”

Hank sighed, letting the formal address slide in favor of shooting the android a disbelieving look and putting the car in gear.

They pulled up to the station a half-hour later, Hank wearing that same Suspicious Look (truly a facial expression worth capital letters if Connor had ever seen one) as he parked and they both got out.

Or, well, Hank got out. Connor remained seated, forehead resting against the passenger-side window. His eyes were half open and glazed over. Hank gently rapped on the window with his knuckles, feeling a little guilty for doing so when Connor startled upright and blinked up at him with the most confused, pathetic look. “Are you coming, or-”

Connor began fumbling with his seatbelt immediately, fingers clumsily unlatching it. Hank had to practically jump out of the way when Connor swung it open a bit violently and got out. Hank’s Suspicious Look deepened when Connor swayed slightly. “And you’re certain I shouldn’t’ve just left you at home this morning?” Hank crossed his arms, not missing the way Connor fidgeted uncertainly.

“I’m fine, Lieutenant, there is no need for you to worry-”

“Shaddup kid, I’m not worried,” Hank growled, turning towards the station and letting out annoyed mumbles the whole way.

Connor blinked, confused, before collecting himself and starting after the disgruntled Lieutenant.

***

If the problem started that morning, it came to a head later that afternoon. After a full day of paperwork, a crime scene or two, paperwork, and more paperwork, Connor was ready to go home. Even though he had no real need for sleep, the mental image of his bed and Sumo tucked next to him, fluffy and warm, was too attractive to ignore. To make matters worse, he had continued to feel colder over the course of the day. The trembling had taken over his whole body. He had exchanged five (5) tense words with Detective Reed while obtaining coffee for Hank (really, so he could escape Hank’s Suspicious Look for a few moments). Then he realized he would only be able to remain standing for another four minutes and thirty-six seconds, and made a hasty retreat.

But what really took the cake, as Hank would say, was when his optical components began deactivating and reactivating at random times. Whenever he stood up, whenever he leaned over, whenever he so much as turned his head too fast, his optical input would stop processing for several moments. Multiple times, he had needed to catch himself on the corner of a desk or place a hand on the wall to stay balanced. Frankly, it was a wonder Hank hadn’t demanded to know what was wrong with him.

Of course, that meant Hank then demanded to know what was wrong with him. “Alright, kid, I’ve had it up to here. What’s up with you today? Some android glitch? How many fingers am I holding up?”

Connor stared blankly. His LED cycled yellow. A long pause. “Up to where, Lieutenant?”

“That’s it, we’re going home.” Hank stood up, grabbing his jacket with one hand and moving from behind his desk to grab Connor with the other.

He snagged Connor around his upper arm, ready to haul him outside, until he jerked away as if burnt. “Connor, you’re burning up!” Hank waved his hand a few times as if to cool it off.

Connor frowned, LED cycling between yellow and red. “Oh. I have been feeling particularly cold today, but my systems indicate the temperature of my thirium supply is quite elevated.” He moved to stand up.

His vision cut out, and didn’t return.

***

Hank’s first thought upon grabbing Connor was  _man he’s warm_. His second thought was  _I thought androids couldn’t get sick?_

Connor moved to stand up, wavered, and his LED began cycling an angry red. Hank moved forward to steady him, instead receiving Connor’s full weight as the android slumped into him, heat radiating from his synthetic skin and body trembling slightly. After an initial moment of shock ( _Connor just passed out??_ ), Hank eased the kid to the ground, hands roaming Connor’s head to either rouse him or figure out  _what just happened-_

Connor’s eyes snapped open, brown irises hazy and unfocused, by android standards (Hank had never seen Connor glaze over, even when he did his freaky mind-palace-reconstruction-thing). “Hank? Why’re we on the ground?”

Hank couldn’t resist rolling his eyes. “Yep, we’re going home. Up you get, c'mon son.” He hoisted Connor up, letting the smaller man lean into him. “You wanna tell me how long you’ve been feeling like this, idiot?”

Connor’s LED continued to cycle red. “Since approximately 6:16 this morning, Lieu-”

“Hank.”

“-Hank. My diagnostics registered thermoregulation problems overnight and informed me upon…” Connor trailed off. The Suspicious Look intensified.

“You with me?” Hank began tugging him in the direction of the doors, disconcerted by Connor’s silence. “Connor. Kid. Can you hear me?” No answer. Connor’s eyes drifted shut again. Hank cursed again just as Connor went unconscious again, crumpling to the ground and almost dragging Hank down with him.

Hank continued a steady stream of curses as he hooked an arm under Connor’s knees and hauled the android into his arms, speed-walking towards the car and ignoring curious glances from coworkers.

Hank reached the car, kicking at the door to unlock it and unloading his armful of android in the passenger seat. He jogged around the other side, dropped into his seat, and peeled out of the parking lot.

Connor stirred next to him, LED flickering yellow-red. “Hank?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Where are we going?”

Hank glanced at him. Connor moved his head to meet Hank’s gaze, and Hank was struck with how  _tired_  Connor looked for an android that supposedly didn’t need sleep. “Home, son. A cold shower for you, probably.”

Connor seemed to accept his answer, eyes closing once more.

***

The next time Connor woke, it was to Hank shaking his shoulder. “There’s no way I’m carrying you again, kid. We’re home.”

_Home_. His home, now. Warmth, not feverish, spread in his chest. Hank gripped his hand and helped pull him out of the car, completely unsurprised when Connor tripped and stumbled into him. The pair took a second for Connor to regain his balance before heading inside.

Hank not-too-gently slammed the door open, guiding Connor into the bathroom and plunking him onto the toilet seat before cranking on the shower to its coldest setting. “Connor, what’s your temperature right now?”

Connor paused. “M-my diagnostics are…uncertain- somewhere around…104 degrees Fahrenheit? But, Hank…it’s hard to…focus-” Even more colorful cursing.

“104 degrees? Man, it’s a good thing you don’t have a brain because it’d be boiling right now, kid.” With that, Hank tore off Connor’s jacket and shoved him under the stream of water. Connor jerked and tried to get out, struggling in Hank’s grip.

“H-hank, it’s t-too cold, please l-let me out, H-Hank-” Hank shook his head, having to use both arms to keep the android under the freezing water. Hank leveraged himself against the wall of the tub, perched on the side.

“This is to keep your, like, plastic parts from melting or something, kid, don’t fight me on this. You’re staying here until your temp goes down, you hear me?” Connor nodded, shivering.

“It may be some time…I need to self-repair biocomponent #10384-” He slipped into silence. “Hank?”

“Yeah, kid?”

A pause. A small, dopey smile on the kid’s face. “Home?”

Hank grimaced and looked away. “Aw, c'mon kid, that’s not fair. You’re delirious. Time to stop talking and get colder.” Connor nodded, then half-closed his eyes and leaned into Hank from where he was sitting at the bottom of the tub.

“Get better, kid.”


End file.
